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The first rule I made with myself before coming to England was that I would stick to my morals and not get involved in anything romantic. Nada. It didn’t matter if 1999 Notting Hill Hugh Grant approached me; I wouldn’t succumb.
“I didn’t need anyone to tell me how to find you,” he clarified. “I saw you leaning against the balcony. Your back is practically painted in my brain.”
Dorian in a suit. Dorian checking his watch. Dorian holding flowers. Holding peonies.
